


Working Boy

by Insomniiyac



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Boys In Love, Coming of Age, F/M, Gay, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniiyac/pseuds/Insomniiyac
Summary: Upon his uncle getting fired from his job, Chase must balance the life of a high schooler and an exotic dancer. Does he have what it takes to balance the scales? (Contains M/M and suggestive themes)
Relationships: Original Character/Other(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. The Pink Flyer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, what's up! I began this story when I was 17 and is now going through a revamp. I know this isn't fandom-related, but I genuinely hope you guys enjoy my work for I put a lot of thought and passion into my craft. If you get the chance, please give me some constructive feedback. Thank you so much for reading and enjoy~!

_This wasn't what Chase was expecting. All he could do was peer out from behind the velvet curtains as bright lights lit up the shiny, navy blue stage. Surrounding the stage was a sea of spectators, whooping and hollering- waiting to be entertained by Damon's Paradise's newest dancer: "Black Mamba".  
  
_

\----------------------------------------------  
  


The alarm blared, tearing itself through Chase's unconscious mind and rousing him from his sleep. He groggily rose up out of bed and rubbed his eyes- slinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up. He trudged out of his room and down the hallway towards the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face before drying it off and looking in the slightly cracked mirror. His thick, curly hair was a wild mess, yet he always managed to style it into place right before he left for school. He turned on the shower and went to bathe himself.

Chase Galiel Machaëlle was known as a guy whose personality contradicted his looks. He was 6'3 with a sturdy build and was a native to Trinidad. He was pretty attractive- his eyes often described as "honey" and his skin being a rich, deep brown. Many people loved the way his dimples became increasingly prevalent when he smiled which earned him the nickname, "Crater Dimples".

Chase finished up and turned it off, drying off and wrapping his lower body with his black-and-white towel. He left the bathroom and made his way back to the room, stopping short when he saw the shadow of his uncle by his dresser.

"Oh, uh- hey!" He jumped back, caught off guard.

"Good morning Chase," Antwon fiddled around with his alarm clock in hand before shutting it off. "You forgot to turn it off."

"Right," he scratched the back of his head, bashfully. He was totally out of it. He didn't mean to wake the guy up so early in the morning. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. Go get dressed," he waved him off before going into the kitchen to fix him something.

Huh. That was strange. He would normally just go back to sleep. Wasn't he tired? Oh well. Chase shrugged and went into his room to get dressed for school.

Chase went to a highly rated, college prep school that sat atop a large hill adjacent to the Oakland hills. Upon him coming to America, his uncle only wanted the best of the best schools for him- even if it meant breaking an arm or a leg to get him there. In his eyes, he had potential and was destined for greatness.

Thanks to this mentality and determination, he was able to pull himself by his bootstraps and become quarterback and team captain of his school. It was impressive, to say the least, though it did often make him a target by the other jocks.

He put on his uniform, which consisted of a stark white button-down, a navy-blue vest, slacks, and a red tie. He tied his wild hair back into a low, bushy ponytail and went into the kitchen for breakfast.

On the table, there was two plates filled with over-easy eggs, toast, and bacon. Chase took his seat at the small wooden table and was served ice-coffee.

"So, what's the occasion?" He smiled, his eyes brightening as he locked eyes with his Uncle.

"Nothing really," Antwon fixed himself some coffee and sat across from him.

"Oh c'mon Ant, it's not like you to fix an elaborate breakfast like this, especially considering that you have work in the morning."

Antwon fell silent. The island native could instantly sense something was up.

"You okay?" He asked, worried.

Antwon sighed before taking another sip of his coffee and opening his mouth. "You remember that little office job I had?"

"Yeah? What about it?" He replied, his voice slightly muffled with the piece of toast in his mouth.

"...I got let go."

"You what now-?"

"Yup."

"But how though? You were pulling sales left and right?" He queries, leaning forward.

Antwon shrugs, breaking a piece of egg with a spoon and scooping it into his mouth. "This place isn't for people like you and me," he lamented with another sigh. "It is what it is."

"So... what does that mean for us then? How are we gonna pay rent? I mean, I guess I can get a job-"

"You're not getting a damn job, Chase. I've told you many times before that you need to focus on your studies," He snaps, tapping the table in emphasis.

He gets up to wash the dishes that were in the sink. There was nothing but the sound of running water before Chase decided to speak again.

"So that's it? You're just gonna sit there and let it happen?"

"Cockroach have no right in fowl party. Now go, you're gonna be late for school," he rises to usher his nephew out the door.

"Alright," he grumbles, letting it go for now. He picks up his bag by the door and slings it over his shoulder before leaving.  
  


——————————————----  
  


He got off the public transportation bus, which dropped him across the street from his school. His school was a massive building atop of this huge hill that overlooked the city of Oakland. There was only one bus that took you up there. The Oakland Hills was an area where the rich and proper lived. The houses were big and nice and the view was remarkable. Oh how Chase would love to own a house like that one day.

He crossed the street and greeted one of his deans, Mr. Barr before walking through those grandiose double doors. The inside of the building looked like the inside of a mansion- the walls were beige with white lacy patterns lining the top and the bottom of the walls and a great golden chandelier hung from the ceiling which was adorned with hanging diamonds, reminiscent of crystal raindrops. There weren't too many people hanging around the lobby area since everyone was heading to class. He decided to do the same, making his way up those ivory staircases to his classroom, which wasn't too far away.

He casually walked inside and took his seat towards the back, ignoring all of the strange looks he was getting. It wasn't like he hadn't experienced it before. But somehow, this time felt it a little different.

_Cockroach have no right in fowl party._

The hell was that supposed to mean? If that applied to Antwon, doesn't that technically apply to him as well? Ol' Unc ain't have that much foresight to think of the implications of saying it.

Oh well.

"Hey Island-Boy! Pull ya head out of ya ass and listen to the teacher!" A familiar, heavily NYC-accented voice snagged him out of his thoughts and he turned to see where it was coming from. He narrowed his eyes at a stocky, blonde-haired, blue-eyed male. Samuel. Jesus, he was annoying.

"Samuel."

"Yes Mr. Mazocchi?" He grumbled.

"Please pay attention to the board. This is very important, okay?" The Italian male spoke. He wasn't the type to yell. However, when he does, be prepared to duck and cover.

"Alright," he sighs, pulling his notebook and pen out of his, constantly empty bag.

Chase narrows his eyes at his blonde rival. He seemed to talk a lot of shit for someone that barely carried shit in his backpack. Tuh, stupid rich kids. Always thinking they're the shit with their damn trust funds. They have no concept of having to work hard. It was almost a pity, really, that Daddy's trust fund didn't secure that quarterback and team captain role that Samuel loved so much.

"Hey Samuel... that backpack looks a little light," he sneers at the other, low enough for the teacher not to hear.

" **How about you shut the fuck up and mind your business** -" the blonde snaps back loudly before getting hit in the forehead with a flying chalk.

"I said **quiet**!" Mazocchi scolds, signaling a plethora of giggles around the room. Chase stifles one of his own in silent victory, feeling blue daggers boring a hole through his skull.  
  
  


\---------------------------------------------------  
  
  


It was after school, more notably football practice. He always enjoyed football. It was his way of easing off after a long day. He pulled the hair-tie out of his hair, unleashing those beautiful curly locks of his as he jogged towards the football field to join the rest of the team. His friend; a short, biracial boy named Jace, sat on the bleachers to wait for him. They initially met during orientation, them both bonding over shitting on the spoiled brats they had to attend school with.

It wasn't all cynical though, they simply vibed off of each other's very grounded and assertive nature.

After football practice, they headed off to the little gelato shop right at the base of the big hill they had to walk down where they normally hang around. It was their own secret place free from the asshole jocks and other seditty kids that "gentrifies" whatever space they walk into.

They order their respective meals and sit down by the large window that had a mostly obstructed view of the other buildings across the street from the overgrown weeds. They didn't mind, though.

"So, how do you plan on balancing school, football, and a job? Won't you tire yourself out?" The boy frowned.

"Most likely, but it's something that I have to do. Besides, I don't know when my uncle will decide to go back to work," Chase responded with determination.

"You sure your uncle will be okay with this? You know how he is about your schoolwork," Jace warns.

"I know. But he's also the type that don't like asking for help. So, I'll do it for him. I'll help him regardless of whether he wants it or not," he crosses his arms with a very serious look.

Just then, a flier had blown towards them upon the door swinging open and got caught in Chase's hoodie. He took it out and inspected it. It was bright pink with Palm trees adorning the corners and had black bold lettering which stated: " **DAMON'S PARADISE BOUNCER WANTED. STARTING SALARY $23 PER HOUR. HOURS WILL BE DISCUSSED UPON INTERVIEW.** "

Underneath that listed a number and an address.

"Jace, look! $23 dollars an hour!" Chase pointed excitedly at the flier. It was as if God himself sent down a gift for him to use.

"Wait- isn't that a nightclub?" Jace took the paper and inspected it himself.

"Well, yeah, I think so-"

"But Chase, you're only 17! You're too young to be taking up this kind of work," he said, worried.

"It doesn't hurt to try, Jace. Besides, I'm built enough to take on the drunkards," Chase mimicked some Bruce Lee poses.

Jace rose an eyebrow in disbelief before chuckling. However, the more he looked at Chase, the more he realized how serious he was.

"Chase... you've literally never held a job before. At least check with this gelato shop or something if you want to get into some work. But not this, Chase. You're not trained for this. I don't care if you're fucking 6'3 or something, okay? People are crazy and I don't want to have to hurt anyone if you get your shit kicked."

"Look, Jace. I get you're worried, but I'll be alright. Trust. I'll take it easy, see if I like it. If not, I'll quit and try something else. Okay?"

Jace side-eyes him, scowling. Chase edges close to him from across the table.

"Okay?"

"Alrighhhhttttt," he sighs with a whine. "But call me and see how it goes. I want to know everything."

"You have my word, Jace," he gets up to stretch, tossing some money at him.

"That's insulting."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jace," he smiles.


	2. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase goes in for an interview and it doesn't go quite as expected...

It was yet another morning. Chase went through his usual routine of getting up and getting ready for school. He could remember his conversation on the phone with the boss last night...

\---------------------------------------------

" _Hello?" A very suave voice answered the phone._

_"Uh, hello there. Um, I read your flyer and I saw you were looking for a new bouncer for your club," Chase fumbled with the pink flyer. "Damon's Paradise, correct?"_

_"Oh, yes. Let me redirect you to the boss," the voice responded before clicking off. It almost sounded like it was amused. Soon after, another voice came on the phone, except this one was much deeper than the last._

_"Can I help you?" It spoke. Chase could almost feel the bass of his voice through the phone._

_"I saw that you were looking for a bouncer for your club and I was interested in the job," he responded, this time with much more clarity. "I was wondering if I could schedule an interview for tomorrow?"_

_"Hmm, I see," the voice spoke with a certain opaque tone his voice. "Do you have a resume?"_

_"Well, yeah," he answered, thinking back to his past work as a waiter. He'll even go back and throw in a few details about his football and such if it means getting him the job._

_"Okay. What's your name?"_

_"Chase Machaëlle," he stated, making sure to spell it out. Many people had trouble pronouncing and spelling his last name, so he was used to it._

_"Alright then, Chase. Be here with your resume and I.D card by 8:00 tomorrow night. Since your have the flyer, I'm assuming you have the address, correct?"_

_"Yes sir," he responded._

_"Well, have a good night," the person hung up._

Chase looked back at the casual outfit he had lying on his headboard. He didn't quite have a suit. He thought about asking Antwon to borrow one, but that might spark up a million questions that he just couldn't answer.

There was an awkward, heavy silence as he walked into the kitchen. Antwon silently puts a plate of saltfish and bake in front of him on the table before turning off the stove and sitting across from him with his own food. He hesitantly sits down and begins digging in.

This lack of a job really did take a toll on him, huh? He certainly hoped he wasn't upset at him offering to work. Though he'd be even more pissed that he was taking up work at a club tonight, he'd do anything if it meant making his uncle's workload easier. 

"Good morning, Uncle," he speaks up, seemingly startling him from his own thoughts.

" _Wha gwan_ , Chase?"

"Nothing much. Just... the usual," he mumbles, biting into his bake.

"Mm," he responds, a moment of silence passing by before he speaks again. " _Everything's gonna be alright. I'm gonna fix it,"_ he reassures, reaching across to place a comforting hand on Chase's leg. "Don't worry about anything."

Chase flashes him with a hint of a smile, uneasy at best. He hoped he didn't pick up on it.

"Thank you, Uncle," he responds. "I'm gonna head to school now, the bus should be on its way," he leaves, his plate half-eaten.

**\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------** **  
**

" _Hey Island-Boy! Heads up_!" Chase heard before a football collided with the side of his face, the leather ball landing in his soup and causing it to spill all over his shirt and pants.

He hisses, springing to his feet, desperately trying to blot out the searing hot soup which was now staining the white fabric with splotches of yellow. His head was swirling with vertigo from the collision, but that didn't stop him from storming over to the jock table of the lunchroom and snatching up Samuel by the collar before Jace could even react.

**"What the hell is wrong with you!?"**

**" _Hey, calm down!_ " **He shouted, but it was no use. He was practically invisible by now.

 **"Get your fucking hands off of me!"** Samuel yelps before he was slammed backwards onto the table, the others struggling to move their lunches away from the commotion.

To say he was sick and tired of Samuel's shit would be considered an understatement. Ever since they both enrolled in junior high, this was the norm for these two. Yet, it seemed ever since the _incident_ it's gotten worse. Chase couldn't help but stoop to his level at times, how couldn't he when the other was so fixated on making his school life a living hell? Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

His left hand clamped around his neck and his right hand was cocked back into a fist. By now, many of the other teenagers were crowded around them, roaring in excitement. His arm was trembling now. He wanted so badly to hit him. To make him pay. The expression on his face read as if he was daring him to do it. The crowd slowly dissipated upon the deans coming through to break it up.

**"Nah fuck that shit. _Yuh wan sneak so and cause all bachannal!? I oughta lick up ya rass-"_**

"C'mon Chase," Mr. Barr, spoke calmly to the heated up Trinidadian. "Put your arm down," he put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Please."

Chase clenched his teeth before taking a huge sigh and letting him go, turning away from him. "Let's go...come on," he put a hand on his back, slightly pushing him. He could hear Samuel chuckling as he walked with Mr. Barr back to his office.

"You, too Samuel."

"Whatever," he mumbles, trudging behind the two.

**\-------------------------------------------**

"Chase. Samuel. This is about your third altercation in this school this year, and this isn't even counting the ones during football practice," the principal, Mr. Wedderburn, spoke. With the amount of times they've been summoned here, it was no surprise they both knew the office like the back of their hand.

"Now, because you two can't seem to get along for just one minute, I'm sending you two into eight weeks of peer mediation-"

 **"EIGHT WEEKS!?"** They both gasped, incredulously.

"AND for any classes that you two take together, you guys will be required to work together," he continued. "Two days a week: Thursdays and Fridays." Mr. Wedderburn explains, gliding around in his chair and printing out paperwork **.**

" **I'm not fucking doing that.** If that's what's printing out I'm not signing that shit," Samuel growls with crossed arms.

"Wouldn't have to if you didn't chuck the _muddacunt_ football at me, _dotish batty boy_." Chase fires back, holding an ice pack to his temple where the football hit him.

"I don't even know what the fuck you're saying and I don't even care. Nobody does. Keep holding that ice pack to that big ass dome of yours, faggot."

 **"Watch your language. Both of you,"** Mr. Wedderburn asserts, putting the peer mediation papers before them. "Sign and take this to your parents and have them sign. And don't even think about pulling an _'I lost the paper'_ because I'm calling both of your parents-"

" **HA! PARENTS!?** That shouldn't be an issue with this guy. Chase doesn't even have parents-"

 **"JUNIOR."** Wedderburn cuts him off. "One more word out of you and I'll be contacting your father as well. And I know good and well you wouldn't want that, would you?"

There was a heavy silence that lingered on for a good minute, the blonde wearing a frustrated but worrisome expression.

"Honestly I should've done this a long time ago. Well," the principal wrote them both a note reminding them of the days. "It begins this week. Hope to see you there. You're dismissed."

They rose up out of their seats and headed for the double doors. 

" _I fucking hate that nickname,_ " he could've sworn he heard Samuel mumble underneath his breath.

Samuel instantly makes eye-contact with Chase right before he opens the door to leave and scowls, hard.

"What the fuck are _you_ looking at?" he sneers.

"Tch!" he rolls his eyes and pauses once he reaches the parking lot of the school.

Chase pulled out his phone to check the time. It was five in the afternoon. He looked up at the sky which glowed an amazing orange-yellow speckled with purple. It looked quite nice. He had three hours until his interview and he hadn't practiced in the mirror yet. Great.

He looks up from his phone and sees a familiar beige Toyota Camry. Was that... his uncle? What was he doing here?

Apprehensive, he makes his way to the car and peeks inside. 

"Uncle?"

The driver's window rolls down to reveal the familiar man, his long dreadlocks tied up into a high bun. 

"Are you gonna hop in or are you just gonna look me in my face?"

Chase would be happy if it wasn't for what happened prior to now. But he does what he's asked and slides into the front passenger's seat and straps on his seatbelt. Antwon silently looks him over and cradles his nephew's chin, turning his head to inspect his temple which was now darkened, bruised, and slightly raised.

" _Wam to you?_ " 

"Got a football thrown at me during lunchtime."

"By who?"

"Samuel."

"The white boy? Did he get in trouble?"

"We both did because I snatched him by his collar. So now we have eight weeks of peer mediation and I need you to sign this," he holds up the manila folder with the sheet in it.

Antwon sucks his teeth. "I'll sign it when I get home."

He turns on the engine and pulls out the parking lot and begins to drive down the hill. 

"You hungry?" he asks his nephew.

"Yeah, I can use something to eat."

They pull into a McDonalds drive-thru and orders two meals before heading home. As Antwon cruises through the streets of Oakland, his eyes stay glued to the time. It's 5:30 now and his interview was about two and a half hours away. He can feel some tension in the pit of his stomach, he knows Antwon doesn't want this. He didn't ask for this and this would be his first time going against his wishes. In an attempt to vet out Antwon's current sentiments since he seemed in a better mood today, he asks him a question laced in uncertainty.

"Uncle... are you _sure_ you don't want me to get a job?"

" _You and this muddacunt job you keep talking about_ ," he grumbles to himself before answering his question. "Yes Chase. It's only been a day, we'll be fine. Alright?"

"What about the per semester fee we have to pay-"

"We'll. Be. Fine. Just let me handle it, alright?" they pull into the driveway and parks. "Come help me carry this food inside."

Chase decided to drop the subject for now. Looks like he's just gonna have to pull a sneaky. With this most likely being an overnight job, it seems like it'd be easy as long as he plays his cards right. 

But back to more important things. 

He decided to take a second shower and condition his hair just to be fresh for the interview and pulled out his Manilla folder with his resume out of his bottom drawer. He took a good look at the crisp, perfectly stapled document. Ah, still in perfect condition. He checked the time once more and saw that it was 6:45. According to his GPS, it would take him about 30 minutes to reach his destination- but he decided to leave a little earlier. Around 7:15 would be a good place to leave.

He puts on his casual outfit which consisted of a white button-down shirt, charcoal-colored jeans, a brown leather jacket with matching brown leather boots. He lets his huge, voluminous hair go wild, the conditioner accentuating the curls of his hair being sure to cover that bruise. Gotta look his best, right? 

Chase slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, deciding to either concoct some bullshit lie to tell Antwon or to sneak out his window. He also realized he hadn't eaten yet and Antwon would probably be upstairs to check to see if he was coming down to eat. 

He'd hate to have Antwon waste his money like that... Looks like he'd have to go with the lie.

The stairs creaked a bit too loud for his liking as he made his way downstairs towards the kitchen. Antwon, instantly spotting his nephew's... look.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I uh... I have a date tonight," he lies, pursing his lips.

Antwon narrows his eyes at him, seemingly trying to analyze him. His lips curve into a smile as he stands up and pats his boy proudly on the back.

" _EH EH!? Yuh got a nice gyalfriend I don't know about?_ _She a white gyal or chocolate gyal?"_

"Uncle please... I don't wanna talk about her until I know it's serious," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head in a mockingly, bashful way.

"Ah okay, well I'll put your food away. You want me to drop you?"

"Oh _no-no-no_ I'm okay with taking the bus, thanks," he rushes. "I'll... I'll be back later okay?" he starts inching his way towards the door.

"See you later, nephew. Call me if you need anything," he waves him off.

**\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He got off the bus in a dark, shady part of town. He had his phone on hand, but there was no need at this point; it was the brightest and loudest building on this block.

The neon sign glowed an eye-catching electric pink which read: **DAMON'S PARADISE: LADIES CLUB** adorned with decorative palm trees akin to the logo on the flyer. The building itself was a nice size, took up about one-third of the block. The windows were tinted and there was a red carpet along with a bouncer standing right outside the door. He was huge and could probably toss him out with no issue if he needed to. There was music blasting from the inside- he could tell when the door opened for two drunken women getting into the Uber.

He walked past the two women and came face-to-face with the bouncer. He had very chiseled features that perfectly matched his stoicism. His hair was shoulder-length and pulled back into a man-bun, his eyes brown but oddly piercing. Oh he was intimidating for sure. 

"ID."

"I'm actually here for a job interview?" he stammers, a bead of sweat trickling down his job.

"Name?"

"Chase Machaelle?"

"Give me a moment," he talks quietly into his ear piece before giving him a nod of affirmation. "Alright, straight ahead, last door. No detours, understand?"

"Y-Yeah, thanks," he skitters past him and inside the building with a sigh of relief.

The atmosphere was overwhelmingly erotic. The entrance was actually further down to the right than most buildings, making it easier to go to the back rooms without worrying too much about navigating through the crowds. The stage was to his left in the center of the building and raised. Though surrounded by waves of excited and horny women, he can easily see what appeared to be a tanned, Middle-Eastern man wearing nothing but a leather jacket and latex assless chaps grinding and twirling around a pole. Suddenly, he threw his jacket into the crowd and got on all fours, grinding against the floor of the stage.. Several women groped him, sticking money in his thong, and taking the opportunity to smack his ass. He could've sworn he saw a couple of men in the crowd, too.

At this point, it occurred to him that it would've been wiser to actually research this place. He could turn around right now, go home and forget all about this.

But... the pay. It would help _tremendously._ Even if he couldn't 100% spend the money, he could save it for a rainy day! He was sure Antwon would be more appreciative that they had some kind of netting if it ever came down to them losing any assets.

Chase had to admit, though, he looked attractive and he couldn't help but pause in awe. His chin was speckled with little hairs; he pulled off the 5 o'clock shadow so well. He also looked older, like in his mid-twenties. He couldn't help but watch the way his lips curved into a smirk as he entertained his crowd, he was so good at his job that even he would want to throw money at him. His heart skipped a beat when he made direct eye-contact with him, Chase quickly turning his head away in embarrassment for staring too hard. He was a little gay for him. _A little._

After he was done, he took a bow and walked out. Crumpled tens and twenty-dollar bills stuck underneath the straps of his chaps as the D.J announced his stage name: Rodeo. A few guys came out and scooped the remaining money that was left in stage into boxes and carried them towards the back. Chase was so absorbed in what was going on that he didn't realize what time it was until he checked his phone.

' _Shit! It's 8:10_!' He thought, going to the nearest worker.

"Um, hello, I'm due for an interview today?" He pulled out a flyer.

"Oh yeah, he's in the back. Chase, was it?" The worker inquires.

"Yes, yes it is," he nodded.

"Alright, follow me," he led him to the back. 

The hallway was dimly lit, yet cozier compared to the main floor. The walls consisted of velvet wall panels in which had big posters of the dancers that worked there. There was a very pretty dancer named "Ken Doll"; a ginger with sultry green eyes. He surely fit the name. He eventually went past one of the ones that featured "Rodeo". He wanted so desperately to pause and take a better look against his better nature. But of course he didn't want to look thirsty for the dancers during his interview, especially for the bouncer position.

They finally made it to what appeared to be the boss' office. This door looked different from all the others: it was wooden and all office-like compared to the metal doors he observed while walking the hallway. The worker pushes the little ringer on the side.

"Who is it?" A speaker chimes from the right of the ringer.

"It's Chase. He's here for the interview!" The workers spoke above the music.

"...Come in."

The worker opened the door to escort him inside before leaving promptly.

The office was a nice, medium size. The lamps glowed a soft red which made the room itself illuminated with a nice, soft red hue. There were plants on each side of the two corners. A light brown desk was right in front of the window with what looked like the boss sitting behind it.

"Sit down," the man spoke without looking up. He appeared to be doing some paperwork.

Chase sat down on the wooden chair right before him. The man sat his glasses down beside him and sat his paperwork down, looking at him. Gosh, he was handsome. His skin was a light tan and he had a full head of thick, black hair which was trimmed short and combed back, neatly. His eyebrows were also thick, though they were shaped into an angled arch, a slash going through the left one. A neatly shaped goatee hung on his chin. His dark eyes appeared to be staring right through him with intensity- he couldn't imagine being the subject of his hatred. He couldn't see much of his body, but from what he saw from his torso, he appeared to be quite a muscular guy. His shoulders were broad, his face was chiseled as if he was some modern-day Greek god. Overall, he appeared to be a well-groomed middle-aged man. The red glow made the atmosphere more sexier as well.

"Do you have your resume with you?" He questioned. Wow, this guy really got to the point.

"Yes, it's right here," he pulled out his resume and slid it across the desk.

The man took it into his large hands and opened the folder, flipping through the packet. A minute passed by while he read over the document. There was the sudden sound of the documents hitting the desk as the man's attention was directed towards Chase.

"Why should I hire you?"

The question completely caught him off guard. All his time practicing in the mirror completely went out of the window upon being hit with the question.

"I...um, uh," he stuttered, trying to formulate a sentence. However, the boss wasn't cutting him any slack.

"Your resume-writing is mediocre and the only work experience you have is waiting. So tell me, Mr. Machaëlle, why should I hire you?"

His eyes grew wide in shock. He wasn't expecting to be drilled so hard, especially at an interview.

"W-Well," he began, but was interrupted.

"Stand up."

He jolted out of his chair, his body tense. The man rose out of his seat and towered over Chase. My god, he was intimidating and was even taller than the bouncer at the front. He circled around the young boy, his eyes scanning over every inch of his body. Chase honestly felt judged. After the man was done, he went to his desk and leaned against it, taking one last glance before making eye-contact.

"You really think you're fit enough to be a bouncer?" He asked, amused.

"Well, I mean...I'm on the football team so-"

"Being in football and being a bouncer are two completely different things," he interrupted once again. "You know what you lack, Chase?" He got off the desk and paced around the office a bit. "You lack authority. You don't strike me as the type to throw people out and enforce the rules around here ESPECIALLY considering that you're so young."

The boy fell silent. Looks like he'll have to go find another job to do. What an inconvenience.

"BUT-"

Chase heard the sound of the man coming near him and raised his head.

"You are very attractive," the man gently lifted his chin. "Almost exotic," he tilted the islander's head to get a better look at his features. "Where are you from?"

"T-Trinidad...sir," his heart began to race. Was he hitting on him? He wasn't gay and he wasn't expecting the gentleman to be either. The tension was high and he wasn't exactly sure what to do until the man broke away from him.

"I'll tell you what," the man spoke, matter-of-fact, making his way back behind the desk. "Why don't you become one of the dancers?"

"D-DANCERS!?" Chase stammered, thinking back to the performance he saw on the way in. There was no freaking way he could do something like that. "But how!?"

"You come up with a dance routine, or have the other ones help you out. They can provide you the clothes you need," he went over to what looked like the telephone and called someone in.

"W-Wait! I wouldn't be able to do this! My uncle would kill me! Like literally KILL ME," he emphasized.

The man swiveled back around in his armchair.

"Um, exactly how old are you?"

"Seventeen-"

 **"** _Eighteen?_ Good! You're perfect for the job!" He clapped his hands and smiled.

Chase could only stare in disbelief as another employee walked in behind him.

"You needed me, Boss?" The familiar, suave voice from over-the-phone was now coming from a smaller, petite, red-headed male.

"Yes. Ken, meet Chase. He's gonna be our new dancer-"

"Wait a minute! All I wanted to be was a bouncer! I didn't agree to this, y'know?" Chase piped up.

"Okay," the boss sighed. "We'll make an agreement. Try it out for one day. If you don't like it, we'll leave you alone. If you do, then you can continue. Deal?" He held out a hand.

Chase frowned. He had to think long and hard about this. He knew that Antwon and his family back home would definitely disapprove of this. Not only was he agreeing to sexualize his body, but he was also in high school. He thought back to all that money that the dancer on stage had collected. It had to be worth way more than what he would be potentially making as a bouncer. Well, at least he could just try it for a day.

"Alright. Deal," he shook his hand.

"Good, you start today," he patted the boy on the shoulder before going back to his desk.

" **TODAY!?** " The island-boy's eyes widened as he felt the other male wrap his arm around his own. "I can't do it today! I'm not prepared-!"

"You'll be fine," the red-headed male assured him. "We'll take care of you," he escorted him out of the door. "The name's Ken Doll by the way."


	3. I Wanna See You Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase dances for the first time.

Chase followed Ken back down the corridor. They went past the posters once again, Chase making a silent comparison between the Ken Doll poster and Ken himself.

"So you're a dancer, huh?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"Mmhmm," he responded with a nod of the head. "I also help out the boss with certain things. I'm sorta his secretary," he smiles at him.

"I see."

His voice sounded much more buttery and smooth in person. He had such a clear, deep articulate voice that he certainly wouldn’t mind constantly hearing. His demeanor was also very professional despite his occupation here. It was no wonder why he was chosen to be a secretary. 

They turned a corner and walked into a room that was labeled the "Dancer's Room".

The room itself was about the size of a hair salon. There were mirrors on one side and racks of clothing on another. There were no dividers for privacy when changing, so some of the men went behind clothing racks to change. From his sight, he spotted about eleven dancers in total. There was much chatter inside along with some clothes being thrown around. Chase instantly recognized the dancer he saw onstage pushing one of the guys into the open, naked. He stands idly beside the ginger as Ken attempted, in vain, to get their attention.

"Ahem!" he clears his throat, though none of the other dancers seem to notice through the commotion.

"AHEM!" He repeats, growing impatient with the loud noise.

The noise dwindles to a mere whisper, some of the dancers peeking behind the racks to give the secretary their undivided attention.

"Oh, hey. What's up Kentucky?" the one known as Rodeo greets with a smirk, leaning casually against one of the racks. He was now wearing leather-clad pants, though he was still shirtless. Chase can make out his features a lot better from here: tanned, golden-caramel skin tone with a nice, lean body type.

"Don't call me that," he demanded before continuing. "We have a new dancer-"

Chase flashed him a glare before Ken corrected himself.

"A potential dancer. He's gonna try it out for a night," he continues as if he never even uttered the mistake to begin with.

A large, muscular Native American man steps from behind the first rack, a concerned expression overtaking his chiseled features. His hair was dark and shoulder-length, tousled to one side. He was one that was the most casually dressed, though still shirtless.

"So what does that mean for us? Where are we going to fit him in our schedule?"

"Well Chief, we'll just fit him in between yours and Tantalis' performance," he replied, going towards the little white board and making some changes. “We usually keep a dry-erase board to remind ourselves of the routine for the day,” Ken leans over and whispers to Chase with a sly smile.

Satisfied with this response, Chief nods and goes back to what he was doing, presumably searching for clothes to change into.

Although everyone seemed very busy, they seemed affable enough that he may get along with them as coworkers in the future. He did feel pressure in the pit of his stomach, though. Who could blame him? Here he was being thrusted onstage to perform a dance despite originally coming to interview for a bouncer position. He was flattered that the boss found him attractive enough to be one, but it did raise a red flag for him.

"So, you planning on dancing, huh?" Rodeo asked with a raised eyebrow. He was wearing shiny, black latex pants now, making his way over to Chase with a whip in-hand. He put an arm around the taller guy, forcing Chase to have to stoop down to his level. "You got a name yet?"

From his nickname, Chase would expect Rodeo to have more of a Southern accent but it wasn’t too different than what he would have imagined it to be. His voice was deep and rough, but very seductive. Definitely a bad boy type of dancer.

“Um, no. Not really,” he flubs, flustered from having this very attractive man near him. He wasn’t expecting him to be this friendly nor being able to meet him so soon.

"Ah, it'll probably come to you. Or we can help you come up with one," the male suggested, smacking him on the bum, which earned him a frightened jump. "Nice ass by the way."

"Zayn," Ken growls, shooting him an icy glare.

"Alright, alright, I'll let him get changed. Hey uh, you," he says to Chase. "You're up in fifteen minutes. That means you have five minutes to choose an outfit and ten minutes to come up with a dance routine. Everyone make sure you find him a good outfit," Rodeo states, gesturing toward the racks of clothing. 

Ken squints his eyes, "Isn't it  _ my _ job to tell people what to do?"

"Nope. That job belongs to the boss," he snorts, giving a quick flirty wink to Chase before going to a clothes rack. "Hey, I think you can borrow some of Lionel's things. Come here."

Chase bites his lip to stifle a little smile as he follows him to the rack. He winces, however, at the array of outfits presented to him. Most of them were skimpy- fishnet tops, thongs, and assless chaps. He just couldn't see himself wearing any of this stuff without making him blush.

"Do you have anything here that's at least halfway decent?" Chase questioned, rummaging through the clothes. Zayn exchanges glances with Ken before both staring at him, deadpanned.

"It's a fucking strip club. Even if you do find something 'decent', it's gonna come off anyways," Ken retorts. 

“Uh… okay?” Chase furrows his brows at the other’s sudden sharp demeanor,

"Here, lemme help you," Zayn takes the Caribbean male’s hand and guides him through the racks. He shuffles through the clothes before pulling out a black suede vest along with some distressed jeans. "What type of underwear are you wearing?"

"Huh?" Chase reacted, perplexed. "Um...boxer-briefs?"

"What color?"

"Uh." Geez, what color underwear was he wearing? He undid his pants to check for the color. However, it seemed that someone had already snuck his way behind him, gripping his pants from behind and yanking it down, pulling the boxer-briefs down with it and exposing his uh… ‘lower regions’.

" **Hey!** " He exclaims, turning a deep shade of red before retreating behind the clothes rack. Ken reappears next to Zayn, giggling along with him and the other dancers.

Chase's facial expression went from one of embarrassment to anger in a matter of seconds. What the hell was wrong with them? They didn't need to see what he had. Hell, he wasn't even sure if this was his official job yet. If this was how they got down, he wanted no parts of it.

"At least we know the color of his underwear," Rodeo smirked, nudging his ginger cohort.

"I'm leaving," he snaps, pulling up his pants and trudging towards the door,

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ken hurried over to Chase, stopping him. “Look,” he stifles another giggle. “I’m sorry, kinda. I didn’t mean to upset you, we were curious,” he shrugs.

“That’s not the type of shit you do to someone you just met,” he scolds before reiterating with emphasis: “I’m leaving.”

Chase turned to go, but felt a hand on his shoulder. He sucks his teeth, spinning back again to glare at him.

"Listen. Can you please just feel it out? Just for tonight? I feel that you would be a great addition to the club," Ken flashes him a small smile. “ _ Please? _ ”

The island boy narrowed his eyes for a bit, attempting to read him. He was annoyed, but the petite ginger seemed genuine. Plus, he was curious to see how this night was gonna play out. He sighs.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, earning a brighter smile from the male. “But on  **one** condition. No more of these antics, aight?”

“You have my word,” Ken shakes his hand with a little bow. "Now that you're staying, I came up with a name for you!"

"Already?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mmhmm... Wanna guess what it's based on?"

"Uh," he was a little too frightened to guess but instantly got the hint when the ginger's vivid, green eyes kept flickering to his crotch. He scowls.

"What? Oh c'mon, it's a nice size! Big, too. You can actually give Rodeo over there a run for his money. I mean-"

"Alright, I get the point," Chase interrupted him before it got too awkward. "So...what actually is the name you thought up of?"

"...Black Mamba."

Now it was Chase’s turn to wear the deadpanned look as absolutely nothing, not even a groan was heard from him.

“Oh c’mon Chase, be a good sport~!” Ken calls to him as he turns to grab the clothes and change behind the rack.

Soon he stepped from behind the rack and into the open where everyone can see. He had removed his shirt, so he was wearing nothing but the suede vest over his torso. The jeans felt snug against his lower body and clung to his hips quite nicely. The boys couldn't help but marvel at how nice his body looked. It was evidently muscular thanks to football.

“ _ Oh, very nice _ ,” Rodeo applauds. “Turn around.”

He rotates around, stiff. His cheeks were a deep shade of scarlet now- he wasn't used to this type of attention.

"Ah, that fits very well," Rodeo nudges Ken, in which he nodded in agreement.

"Alright, great! How much time do we have left?" Rodeo looked up at the clock and frowned. "Shit, we don't have a lot of time." He walked towards Chase and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like you'll just have to wing it."

“I have to what now?” he pushes his head forward, hoping they said sike right now,

“You uh…,” Zayn rubs the back of his neck, awkward. “Ya kinda don’t have time to practice.”

There was a slight pause before he abruptly turned around and started taking off all the clothes he changed into. 

“WAIT CHASE-” the guys rush over to stop him.

“Chase! Wait, hang on-”

“Nah, I quit! I’m good, I’m not taking this job,” he insists, struggling in vain to take the clothes off.

“Chase, relax,” Zayn murmurs, passing by the others and cradling his chin in his hands. “You can make a fuckton of money. Just try it for one night, I know you can do it.”

Chase stills, shutting his eyes. He exhales sharply before making his decision. 

_ Just one night, Chase, one night. You take the bread and you leave and are never heard from again. _

“How am I gonna wing this? What do I have to do?” he asks, finally.

"Well, first off you gotta loosen up," Chief points out, referring to Chase's hunched shoulders.

"Okay," He loosened up a bit. "Then what?"

"You dance! Utilize the stage! Interact with the crowd!" Ken piped up, dancing around the room.

"Yeah, what he said," Rodeo pointed to the ecstatic ginger before leaning in and whispering: "He really loves his job."

Chase chuckled in response before sighing. Well, he did dance a lot when it came to Carnival. He was also really good at rolling his hips. Yeah, he could do that. But what about the music?

"Alright. Very well. But what exactly would I be dancing to?"

"Up to you. What do you prefer?" 

“Hmm.” He had to think long and hard on this one. He wanted to stand out and be different. He was sure they played the usual pop music and maybe some R&B. But maybe they haven’t tried…

“Dancehall.”

“Dance...hall? What’s that?” Ken asks, curious.

“I think that’s like reggae, right?” Zayn speculates.

“So… Bob Marley-type music? That doesn’t sound very appealing, to be honest…”

Chase facepalmed. Of course. That's what pretty much everyone who wasn't familiar with Caribbean music thought of.

"Noooo...There's different types of Carribean music. But that's DEFINITELY not the type I was thinking about," he chuckled a bit.

"I see," Ken nodded slowly. "Well I'm certain you would know more. Here," he went over to a little drawer and pulled out a Post-It note and a pen. "Write down the song you had in mind and I'll bring it to the DJ."

Chase took the items and wrote it down, giving it back to Ken. 

"Thank you!" He smiled before leaving the room and heading towards the DJ.

It wasn't long before Tantalis, the dancer that was onstage came through the door.

"Alright champ, get ready because you're gonna be up," Rodeo led Chase out of the room and towards the area backstage.

The area was barren aside from the thick velvet curtain that divided the backstage area from the actual stage. Although the stage appeared to be smooth, the flooring backstage was rougher and wooden. Chase could spot a few raised floorboards with the naked eye that were against the wall.

"So when you enter, you're gonna enter through the middle," he indicated with his hand. "Your cue to go on is when the DJ announces your name and the music starts to play."

"Okay," he took a deep breath. His chest felt so heavy, he couldn't help but feel nervous. What if he messes up? What if the crowd doesn't like him? Oh well, he was going to have to cast those feelings aside.

"You're not gonna be up for no more than 2 minutes. Remember to carry yourself with confidence, charm, and sexiness. Got it?" Rodeo asked.

"Uh huh," he nodded in response, listening to Ken's suave voice entertaining the crowd.

"Good! You got this kiddo," he gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

This wasn't what Chase was expecting. All he could do was peer out from behind the velvet curtains as bright lights lit up the shiny, navy blue stage. Surrounding the stage was a sea of spectators, whooping and hollering- waiting to be entertained by Damon's Paradise's newest dancer: "Black Mamba". 

It was time.

As soon as he heard his name and the music starting to play, he stood up straight. He strutted through those velvet curtains and was greeted by loud squealing as he flashed his pearly whites, his God-given dimples very prominent in his face as he began to gyrate his hips to the beat. He made his way to the very front of the stage, sinking down to his knees. Money was being thrown at him now, he could see the green notes littering the stage. He tuck his thumbs in the loops of his jeans, pulling it down just a little past his V-line. Some women had reached out to touch his abs. He rolled his stomach in-tune before he went forward on all fours to kiss one of their hands. He flashed a charming smile before getting up and pulling off the vest, throwing it into the crowd.

Although the crowd was going crazy, he couldn't help but feel his integrity slowly dying inside. If his family, or even his peers from school ever caught him doing something like this, he would be in so much trouble.

After what felt like eternity on stage, he was finally done- the DJ introducing him one last time before the next act, which was Chief. He went backstage and back inside the Dancer's Room where he was instantly greeted with praise.

"Holy shit! You were fucking amazing out there!" Rodeo puts an arm around him.

"You did great, Chase," Ken compliments.

"Oh, uh...really?" Chase blushed, rubbing the back of his head, bashfully.

“Mmhmm. How did you feel?” Zayn asks as the other men go silent awaiting his answer.

“I uh… I’m a little panicked but it didn’t feel too bad,” he shrugs. “It’s gonna take some getting to if I decide to work here.”

They nod understandably to each other. 

Suddenly, two workers came in with two large duffle bags and gave them to Chase before leaving. He looks up to the other guys as a sign of confirmation before opening the bags. His eyes widened as he discovered they were filled to the brim with money. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself as he starts counting out the money. He already calculated at least $400 and he hadn’t even made it halfway through the bag. Someone working for minimum wage, part-time would never come close to this kind of money! 

"Wait, aren't I supposed to give some back to the club?"

"Well, typically Boss collects 10% of your earnings. You count it at the end of the night, take the percentage out for him and keep the rest. However, since it's your first day, he pardoned it," Ken explains. “You also have to pay a flat fee per shift to dance per shift which luckily is only $35. Events nights are higher, of course.”

“Yup. You’re considered an independent contractor so you get to make your own schedule. If you decide that you wanna cut your losses and not come back, that’s okay too. But considering that Boss didn’t deduct anything or charge you on your first day… I reckon that he may like you, Chase,” Zayn teases. 

“Ah,” he gets flustered. He didn’t think he made a good impression; it wasn’t like he  _ really  _ spoke to Boss to be honest. 

“Well Chase, if you do decide to leave it was nice having you here with us,” Ken smiles. “Just make sure you bring back the duffle bags when you clear all the money out of it,” he adds. “I’ll let you change.”

Chase nods, rising to his feet and moving behind a rack to change. 

_ Just one night, Chase, one night. You take the bread and you leave and are never heard from again. _

But was that what he really wanted to do? The money was great! And even though his coworkers were annoying, they seemed nice enough to work with. He found himself really wanting to see them again.


	4. The Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peer mediation goes exactly as predicted.

Chase woke up in the morning feeling oddly refreshed. He didn't get back home until three in the morning, so he did his best to sneak in without getting caught. He looks over to his right and sees the two duffle bags from last night. He spent a lot of time counting it out: a good $1000 was made that night. He had no idea that dancers could even potentially make that much. (Probably not a typical night, so he chalked it up to luck.)

He could hear some faint footsteps from his uncle coming down the hallway, so he springs up to kick the bags beneath the bed before Antwon could even notice anything when he opened the door.

"Hey Ant, what's up?" Chase flashed him a goofy smile, confusing the older male for a second.

"Morning Chase," he returns a fake smile before closing the door behind him and sitting in his bed. "Sit with me please?" He pats the area next to him.

Uh oh. He didn't catch him coming in late, did he?

"Something wrong?" Chase awkwardly sat by him, a bit scared.

"Well...I don't know, depends on you."

Chase inwardly cringed. This doesn't sound good at all.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his eyebrows, his heart pounding.

"Well Chase, as you know, I was fired from my job."

"Yeah? What about it?"

“I’m applying for unemployment. Your school fees for next semester is due in three months. If I can’t get a job by then, I  _ might _ have to transfer you into a public school-”

“Transfer?! But Uncle, I don’t want to transfer-” he rushes.

“ _ Might _ transfer, Chase. I don’t know for sure but I’m giving you a heads up. Okay?”

He frowns. He’s not happy about this in the slightest. That school is all he knows, he’s gone there since 6th grade after all. He’d hate to have to abandon his friends and his team, as problematic as they can be sometimes. 

“Chase.  _ All now so yuh go _ to the school-”

“Can you _ please _ let me work, Uncle?” he asks, exasperated. 

“ _ Chase…” _

“ _ Please _ Uncle. Look, I’m in honors right now. My GPA’s 3.2. I can keep up with my school and work if that’s what you’re working on. I’m only struggling in English but I can easily make that up with some tutoring,” he begs. “Uncle, I really don’t want to leave that school.”

“I promised your mother that I’d take care of you. You need to focus on your studies,” he states, stern. “And you have your football, too. What about that?”

"Look- I can pay for it myself! I can work overtime! Or get a job!" Chase stammers, desperate.

The older man stares at Chase before sighing, shaking his head.

“Alright. You’ll get one job. Part time on the weekends, okay?” he demands. 

Chase smiles at this and nods his head. “You have my word, Uncle.”

“Good,” he affirms, satisfied. A moment goes by before Antwon turns to ask his nephew, lighthearted.

“So, how did your date go?”

“My date?” Chase recounts before instantly remembering his excuse last night. “Oh! Uh, it went well,” he responds. “We didn’t do too much, just chilled by Lake Merritt.”

“Ah. I noticed you came home late last night. Hope you used protection?”

Chase blushes at this, mostly out of shock but embarrassment too. 

“Y-Yeah! Of course, I did!”

Antwon lets out a large, deep, hearty laugh at this before patting his boy proudly on the back. He rises out of the bed and starts heading towards the door.

“I’ll leave you alone for now, but if you need any advice I’m here,” he teases before heading out the room.

  
  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


Today was the day his and Samuel's peer mediation began. He sighed. This was going to be a long eight weeks. What the hell was Mr. Wedderburn thinking? Did he seriously expect them to the best of friends after these eight weeks? Well, at least it's only two days out of the week, which was about sixteen days. Cool.

Chase took a deep breath before walking into the abandoned classroom. He could already see Samuel's face twisting into a grimace as he sat down three seats away from him.

"Now c'mon Chase, next to him," Mr. Barr groans. 

With a heavy sigh, Chase grabbed his stuff and moved next to Samuel, Samuel shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

"Good!" Mr. Barr smiled before going to the board and writing 'PEER MEDIATION'. "Welcome to peer mediation! This is where-"

"We know, we know...," they both grumbled in unison.

"Good! Now that that's out of the way, let's do icebreakers," Mr. Barr grabbed a seat and sat in front of the two. "What we're gonna do is-"

"Pardon me,  _ Mr. Barr _ ," Samuel said his name almost mockingly, "But I think we already know who we are and where we stand. There's no need for icebreakers."

"Oh but there is!" Mr. Barr piped up. "Because you see, this is going to help you with the project you'll be doing for this program!"

"A project?" Chase queries.

"Yep! So you better pay attention and take notes. Now, we're gonna go around and say our names and something about us."

" _ Anything _ about us?" Samuel raises an eyebrow.

"Um, my name is Chase," he began, "And my favorite subject to learn is English," he turned to Samuel to speak.

Samuel looks around before letting out an obnoxious yawn with a stretch.

“My name is Samuel. And I absolutely  _ despise _ fucktards who get people stuck in peer mediation because they can’t control their salt.”

“ _ Samuel _ ,” Mr. Barr warns.

“How the fuck is that  _ my _ fault!?” Chase snaps, rising out his seat.

“Boys-!”

"If you hadn't gone all Tarzan on me, then we wouldn't even be here!" The jock shouted, rising up as well. This alarmed Mr. Barr, for he made sure to position himself between them. “Keep your hands to your fucking self!”

"MAYBE it was because you threw a GODDAMN FOOTBALL at me during lunch! Why would you do that!?" 

"MAYBE it's because you don't belong here!"

Those words hung in the air for a while. It stung like a bitch. It was enough that he was going through financial issues, but now this asshole just had to put the cherry on top. He could feel the tears stinging the corner of his eyes for he grabbed his things and stormed out before anyone could see him cry.

  
  


"Chase! He didn't mean it-!" Mr. Barr could only plead as he helplessly watched him storm off.

  
  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


He slammed the door shut behind him, alarming Antwon. Stupid idiot. How dare he talk to him that way? What the hell gives him the right to treat him like that? 

"Chase? You okay?" He comes to check on his nephew.

"I'm fine," he sniffs, making his way to his room.

"What's wrong? Is it Samuel again?" He lingers behind him.

"I'm fine, Antwon," his voice quivers as he takes off his uniform and changes into his house clothes: a white t-shirt and some grey sweats. 

“Are you sure you still want to go to that school-?”

"YES ANTWON. I'm still going," he wheels around with a glare. His eyes were slightly red and watery. “Look, I,” he corrects himself. “I’m still going. I just need some time alone, okay?”

Antwon’s eyes waver quietly over Chase’s figure before turning to leave with an “okay.”

Chase collapses onto the bed, face first. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for how he treated Antwon. He wasn't the only one who was going through hard times right now. He'll make it up to him later.

He grabs his phone that was sitting on his drawer and idly scrolls through his contacts. ‘Jace… Jordan… Samuel… Domi…” 

Ah, Domi. His ex-girlfriend and also Samuel’s younger sister. 

She was his second girlfriend, him dating her when he went into freshman year. He was sure Samuel was very angry at him for their breakup. It was for her own good, of course. Though anyone would be angry and bitter after a three-year relationship. He hadn’t seen her since Samuel refused to let him talk to her.

He had far too much on his mind and he didn’t want Samuel in his head any longer than he already had at this point… maybe he should visit the strip joint again? He had to drop off the duffle bags anyway. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**SAMUEL**

  
  


_ "MAYBE it's because you don't belong here!" _

  
  


There was a long pause as Chase stared back at him, wide-eyed. Samuel hated him. He hated everything about him. Just looking at him made him sick to his stomach. How could a piece-of-shit like him ever get into this school? After everything… he didn’t belong here. No, he didn’t belong here with him. 

He turned around and stormed off. Good for him. He was better off gone.

"Chase! He didn't mean it-!" Mr. Barr could only plead as he helplessly watched him walk away. He turns to Samuel with a glare.

“What?”

"You seriously need to stop picking on him all the time."

" _ I'M _ picking on  _ HIM _ ?" he dramatically gasps. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Cut the shit, Samuel. I've known your mother for a very long time and she wouldn't be happy if she sees that you're having a bad time at school."

He sucks his teeth. Samuel Champion Jr’s mother was a lawyer and she was also very good friends with Mr. Barr. She was a woman who took education seriously and had no time for slack. She took pride in their last name, Champion, and always told him that their last name was no coincidence.

His father, Samuel Champion, was even scarier. Luckily he was in the marines and was gone for around eight months at a time.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to fix your attitude. So what you're going to do is write me a one-page essay on respect and bring it to me tomorrow.”

"But-!"

"AND you're going to apologize to Chase during peer mediation. Understand?"

"Tch! Fine," he grumbles, rising out of his seat to go. He really didn't want to do this. At all.

"See you tomorrow, Junior," he calls out as he walks past him towards the door.

  
  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


“Hey Sam, catch!” He hears an feminine voice call out before a football is sent his way. He caught it confidently in his hands and strides over to the maroon, 2-piece sectional couch to drop it on.

The Champion household was a very intricate one. The house itself was Mediterranean-styled and was two stories high. The large living room, the kitchen, dining area, along with a bathroom sat on the first floor while the second boasted a master bedroom, along with three bedrooms (two of which are used by Samuel and his sister, respectively). The last one was used by their mother as an office. 

The living room area was cream colored with black cherry wooden window sills. The fireplace, which had little use given that they were in a sunny state, was to the far right wall from the entrance. A massive, 80 inch flat screen TV hung atop of it, two equally large and impressive paintings of nature scenes on either side. They were the only paintings to be put on the wall for the rest of the house decor consisted of certificates, medals, and other awards from the Champion family. It was an impressive home, but there was always a sense of emptiness Samuel felt when he entered.

“Hey Domi,” he mumbles, heading past the staircase and into the dining room area, taking his seat across from her.

Domi and Samuel, save for their blonde hair, completely juxtaposed each other in physique. She was slightly above height, 5’8, with a slim figure vs her brother’s shorter, stocky build. Her eyes were upturned and brown much like her mother’s; Samuel’s big, blue rounded eyes being more reminiscent of his father’s. She had a greek nose with a little beauty mark that hung delicately to the right by her heart-shaped lips. Samuel’s nose was snubbed, his lips thinner and bow-shaped with a strong cupid’s bow.

She was a pretty girl who kept up with her figure by taking a keen interest in cheerleading at her school. She was girly but also had a little “tomboy” vibe to her that many people vibed with. Her waist-length hair was always kept up in a side-swept fringe ponytail. She wore a huge grey hoodie that definitely didn’t belong to her along with some dark blue gym shorts. Her eyes followed her brother as he came into the dining room and was now completely fixated on his irritated facial expression. 

“Samuel? What’s the problem?” she cocks her head to the side, curious.

He ignores her and pulls out a folder filled with loose leaf and a pencil to begin the essay. She furrows her brows at this and gets up, coming to slide beside him.

“What Domi?” he growls before she can cheekily do something that’d annoy him more than he already was.

“What the hell is your problem? And mom bought us binders and folders, what’s with you carrying no supplies like a bum?” she hisses, standing up straight and crossing her arms in disapproval. 

“I’m trying to write an essay.”

“About what?” she asks. Before he could answer, she snatches the paper and takes a look at it.

“‘Respect’ huh? Like you have any of that,” she snorts, giving it back to him. “Also your handwriting’s shit.” 

“Shut up, dork,” he half-smiles. He couldn’t stay too upset at her even if he wanted to.

She returns the smile before taking a seat next to him.

“Let me guess, The Asshole again?” 

“I swear I’m so close to snapping his neck. I wish he’d just go away. Like, getting deported or something.”

“Samuel,” she sighs, putting a comforting hand on top of his.  "Don't let him get to you. All you have to do is pretend. That's it!" She smiled. "I know he's an ass, but the only way you can get through it is to work together. Two days out of six weeks, that's like- 12 days right?"

“ _ Eight _ weeks,” he corrects. “Not to mention we're automatically grouped together for all assignments. It's impossible working with him," he mutters. “He’s such a fucking know-it-all.”

Domi sighs again. Samuel could tell she didn’t like him speaking ill of her ex. The girl probably still had feelings for him, though Samuel couldn’t really see what she saw in him. At least that’s what he convinced himself anyway.

"Whatever. Just get your shit together," she demands, getting up and carrying her things out of the dining room and leaving him by himself.

The blonde scratches his head in frustration trying to figure out how the hell he was gonna finish this essay. Not like he was any good at writing anyway.


	5. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase gets an unexpected visitor today.

The classroom was silent. The desks which were originally organized like a regular classroom were now all pushed back to the of the room. Since their scrap yesterday, Chase was sure Mr. Barr wanted to minimize the risk of them knocking into anything if they fought.

The boys stood, facing each other in the middle of the room. Mr. Barr stood in between them acting as a mediator.

"Okay Samuel, apologize."

"Sorry," he muttered, averting his eyes.

"For what?"

"For being disrespectful."

"Look at him in the eyes and say it."

Samuel scowled, looking straight into Chase's honey eyes.

"I'm sorry,  **Chase** , for being disrespectful," he emphasizes. His defensive body language was saying the exact opposite, earning a raised eyebrow from Chase.

"Will it happen again?"

"No."

"Good! Let's all sit down, shall we?" Mr. Barr smiles, pulling out three chairs and arranging them in a circle before they all sat down.

"Alright, so let's continue from yesterday. We're gonna go around and say something about yourselves."

" _ Again? _ " They both groan.

As mean as it sounded, Chase really wasn’t interested in anything this boy had to say and his face strongly reflected it.

"Yep! And pay close attention. I'll start. Hello, I'm Mr. Barr and I enjoy fishing on the weekends. Next?"

"I'm Chase," the Trini says. "And I enjoy swimming in my spare time," he turns to Samuel, wary about what he would say next. 

Before Samuel even spoke, Chase was silently calculating how far his arm could reach from where he was sitting so he could deck him in the mouth as soon as something slick came out his mouth.

The blonde sighs before speaking.  "My name is Samuel. And um...I can't swim to save my life," he mused, earning a chuckle from Mr. Barr and a small, uneasy smile from Chase.

"Maybe one day you can teach him," the former dean nudges Chase.

"Heh...yeah," he mumbled, awkwardly. As if he’d ever take the time to teach him that nor would Samuel ever be open to that kind of guidance from her.

"Stop that. The only way you can truly understand a situation from someone else's perspective is if you put yourselves in their shoes. Now, I want you to recreate the incident beginning from the football being tossed," Mr. Barr strides over to his bag that sat upon a desk against the wall and pulls out a football before tossing it to Chase.

Chase looks at it, holding it gingerly in his hands before heading back towards the back and sitting on a desk. Samuel went in the opposite direction, sitting at another desk in the manner that Chase was doing it.

This was so stupid.

"Okay, I'm not going to put any liquids near you," the dean muses, "But just imagine it landing in hot soup and it splashing on you."

"Whatever," the blonde rolls his eyes. "Just throw it."

"Oh, and by the way, try to remember the dialogue and think about how it affects you."

Chase takes a deep breath. This was hard. How could he ever put himself in the same mindspace as Samuel? Samuel was so angry, so antagonistic. He couldn’t fathom how someone could harbor so much hate in his heart for something that happened years ago. He'd feel disgusted with even thinking those thoughts to begin with. He swallowed hard before readying his hand to throw it.

"Hey Island-Boy, heads up!" he throws it in his direction, aiming for the table.

Samuel lets out a dramatic gasp, eyes widening. “Oh no! The very lukewarm soup spilled on me! I’m so angry! Whatever shall I do!” he mocks.

“Junior…,” Mr. Barr stressfully pinches the bridge of his nose.

The curly-haired boy narrows his eyes. Was this guy fucking serious? He gets off the desk and storms over to the blonde.

“You realize it wasn’t the soup and that the football actually hit my head, right?” he snaps.

“So? You’re our fucking quarterback, ‘Mr.  _ Team Captain’ _ . A little football hitting your head shouldn’t mean much,” Samuel retorts, waving him off.

Chase glares at him, a fire blazing in those amber eyes. He was sick of holding back. This needed to end NOW.

**“You’re just mad because you-!”**

That was all it took to send Samuel flying over to Chase and shoving him on the desk roughly. One hand was tightly clamped around his neck, and the other hand cocked back into a fist. Chase lets out a shocked yelp as his head collides with the desk, him desperately struggling and scratching Samuel to get him off him. Samuel’s smirking now; he has the upper hand.

**“SAMUEL. Let him go,”** Barr commands, putting a firm hand on the aggressor and yanking him back with enough force to pull him off the other.

The hand clamped around his throat loosens as Samuel tries to regain his footing, holding his shoulder with a hiss. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself. If you keep this behavior up, you’re getting suspended. Understand?”

“He should’ve been suspended,” Chase growls hoarsely, rising to his feet and rubbing his throat. 

Samuel’s parents were well-acquainted with the school and its staff. The amount of things Samuel has gotten away with in this school was ludicrous. His grades were subpar, he was violent, and he’s constantly gotten away with harassing and getting physical with Chase no matter how many times he’s reported it to the school.

Maybe transferring schools was for the best.

“Listen, what you boys need to learn is some empathy. Empathy can go a long way. It helps to think from different perspectives in order to better understand the situation. It's the first step to resolving an issue," he speaks before going over to his bag. "Now for homework-"

“Homework? You’re actually giving us homework for this?  _ Now?”  _ Chase was fuming at this point. He just wanted to go home at this point. 

"Yes, you do. And it all has to do with teamwork. Considering that you two are on the football team, it should benefit greatly," he pulls out a manila folder and takes out two worksheets to give to them. "It's due next Thursday. You guys are dismissed."

They both took the papers and left- Samuel shoving him as soon as they left the classroom. Chase growls, tempted to lash out, but he thought better of it. He makes his way to the front where Antwon was waiting in the car.

"How'd it go?" Antwon asks as Chase slides in the passenger seat.

"Better than usual, I guess,” he lies. 

"That's good," he responds, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Hey listen...sorry about yesterday. I was just having a really rough day yesterday, but it was unfair to take it out on you."

Antwon goes dangerously silent on this. Chase knew the rules of the house and how unacceptable it was to lash out at his elders. 

“ _ I shoulda lick up yuh rass _ for disrespecting me like that. I’ll let it slide for now, but don’t do that again.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“You got homework?”

“Yeah. Some Trig and AP Literature work. And peer mediation,” he sighs at the last part, gesturing to the sheet he had in his hand. 

Antwon briefly looks over at the work and lets out a small chuckle at the very kiddish-looking worksheet. 

“Looks like some elementary work.”

“I’m so sick of getting punished with this stuff. I’m not the problem here. He is yet nobody seems to want to address it. I’m over it.”

“I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again, switching schools is an option. But if you insist on staying, that’s on you.”

Chase sighs, leaning against the window. There was such an obvious answer to end his issues but he didn’t want to abandon someone who he used to call a friend.

\-----------------------------------------------

  
  


"Alright Mamba, you got a request for tonight," Ken takes his arm as they walk into the Dancer's Room.

“A request? What’s that mean?”

"It means that someone wanted a special dance from you," Rodeo speaks up, making his way towards them, stark naked.

Chase coughs violently out of shock, his face turning a deep maroon as he rushes to cover his eyes.

“Zayn, what the hell!? Go put on some underwear,” Ken averts his gaze, disgusted.

"Pft! Don't act like you haven't seen this before... Ken Doll~" he teased, moving his hips to make his junk jiggle.

“Can y’all not do this in front of me?”

“Ahem! Sorry about that,” Ken corrects himself, going back to his professional demeanor. “Zayn, go put on some clothes, please.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Zayn whines, but he pauses to shake his butt mockingly before going behind a rack to change.

"Basically, there are two types of special dances. There's the private dances held in the V.I.P room and there's also the onstage performances where you grab the requester. You're gonna be doing the latter,” Ken explains.

"Looks like you have a fan," Chief jokes, putting on his tribal face makeup.

"Wow," he blushes, scratching the back of his head. He didn't think he would get a fan right on his third day. He must be doing something right.

"Yep! The onstage dance costs $100 right off-the-bat, so here you go," the petite ginger pulls out a small envelope for him, which Chase puts in his messenger bag. "The person requested a wild jungle theme.”

“So some Mandingo shit, huh?” he snorts with a raised eyebrow. 

“Ah, Chase. Here’s the thing… we all kinda have our own themes. And sometimes it means playing into a theme that puts you into a certain ‘type’,” he explains. “For example: Zayn’s the bad boy type; Tantalis is the princely type; I’m a crossover between the princely type and the ‘trap’, etcetera etcetera.”

“Uh huh.”

“And… you’re our uh… ‘bull’ so to speak,” he smiles uneasily.

Chase groans. He was all too familiar with being fetishized in that manner.

“Look, if you aren’t comfortable it’s okay. I’ll tell them no. But just remember that in sex work, we entertain and sell a fantasy to our clients and you can draw the line where you want. But just keep that in mind moving forward.”

There was a moment of silence as Chase weighed out his feelings. Was this how all beginners felt when taking up this work? Jace would be screaming for him to leave at this point. 

“Is there a picture of the client I can see? So I can, y’know, know who I’m pulling up to dance?”

“Sure, here you go,” he slides a headshot of a woman out of a small yellow envelope and hands it to him.

The woman looked young, most likely in her early twenties or a bit younger. She was a brunette with shoulder-length hair which was put up in a half-ponytail. Her face was round; her lips thick, full, and red. Her eyes were forest green and wide set with long eyelashes. Chase had to admit, she had a very pretty look to her.

“I’ll do it,” he states, with certainty.

“Oh good!” Ken beans, visibly happy. "There are special seats near the stage that are red. The ones seated in the red seats are the ones that get the special dance. Just look for her, she should be easy to spot. She told me she'll be wearing a white button-down shirt and some high-waisted jeans," Ken informs. "There will be a stage prop for you- like a tree trunk so you can sit her down on it and do what you do. "

"Right," he blushes once more, thinking about the dances. He remembered seeing Tantalis doing a special performance with a lady last night- he was practically dry-humping her on stage. Is that what women like? He couldn't dare see himself doing something like that.

In public at least. 

"Alright, well who's up now?"

"It's intermission, so everyone's drinking and stuff," Ken responds before leaning in and whispering. "Don't be nervous. You can do this, okay?" He leans back before declaring out loud, "You can practice on me if you like!"

“Eh, I’m good. Thanks though,” the curly-haired guy chuckles, nervously.

“Mmm, okay. If you say so. I’ll leave you alone to get changed~,” Ken winks before taking his clipboard and making his way to the other guys in the Dancer’s Room.

  
  


```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

"Now introducing....BLACK MAMBA!" The DJ announces over the mic before this gorgeous, stallion of a man appeared before everyone's eyes. The backdrop was of a great, wild jungle- just like Juliana had asked. I pulled out my cellphone to record. This was gonna be fun.

I remember her telling me about how there was this hot new dancer that joined the club a few days ago and that I just had to see him. She was a regular at Damon's Paradise and she was always able to pull some strings to get me inside.

My eyes took in his figure- he was tall, dark, and had a beautifully crafted body. He was wearing a tiger mask that had covered his eyes and nose, though he had a gorgeous smile as he carefully went over and pulled her up onstage. I secretly envied her, I'd have to say.

As he scooped her up into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her over to the rather large tree stump and sat her down. He got atop her and started grinding his hips into her, his body rolling with so much fluidity that made so many people hoot, holler, and toss money all over the stage. Juliana really seemed to be into it as she rolled her hips in-tune with him.

"Isn't he hot?!" My friend, Darla, gushes.

"Yeah, I'm actually kinda jealous," I admit with a coy smile, watching him flip her over into the cowgirl position.

He smiled that gorgeous smile again as he sat up, though I couldn't shake off the feeling of familiarity. It was as if I saw that same smile from somewhere before.

Soon enough, Juliana's curiosity got the best of her. She reaches up to pull the mask off of his face. My eyes widened.

No.

This is not happening.

That did not just fucking happen.

I didn't even know how to feel. All I could feel was the sudden rush of blood flooding to my cheeks.

"Domi? Are you okay?" Darla pokes me. "Your face looks like a tomato!"

"I'm fine," I hiss through clenched teeth, hitting the stop button of the video recording.


	6. Best of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase and Samuel form an unlikely bond.

**SAMUEL**

_BANG!_

The sudden bang of the front door slamming roused the blonde from his sleep. He lets out a gut-wrenching groan before dragging himself out of bed to see what the commotion was about. He takes a quick look at the digital clock that sat atop his dresser. What the actual hell? It was 2 in the morning!

“Who’s there,” he slurs, wiping the excess drool from his lips.

No response.

Now, if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his sister going up the other staircase to her room, he would’ve opened a fresh can of whoop-ass.

“Domi?” He squints his eyes to clear his vision. However, she just looks at him and turns to go into her room.

Huh.

He was going to turn and go back into his room but then it occurred to him: what the hell was she doing coming into the house this late?

His big brother instincts kicked into gear as he made his way across the hallway to her room.

He knocks on her door. “Hey!”

“Go away!”

“What happened?” he asks, boredly.

“Don’t worry about it!” she yells, prompting him to bang on her door even harder. It was a good thing their mother was on a business trip or else he would’ve gotten the meanest tongue lashing of his life.

“Ugh, _fine_. Just hang on,” she groans, unlocking the door.

He smiles the shittiest smile on this planet as he strides in, closing the door behind him. She looked pissed. She looked like a spoiled child the way she sat cross-legged on her fluffy, white bed surrounded by pink walls and her stuffies. Samuel stifles a giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he sits on the edge of the bed. “Who shitted in your cornflakes?”

"Can you believe what I just saw not too long ago?"

"Um...No? Besides, where were you and why did you come in late?" he questions.

An odd silence passed between them.

“I went to a male strip club, okay?” she mutters, averting her brother’s gaze.

“ _Oooooh_ ,” he teases. “I’m telling mom-”

“Please don’t tell mom!” she pleads.

“Alright alright whatever,” he yawns. Samuel was convinced he looked like complete shit right now. “So what happened?”

He wasn’t sure if he triggered something, but he instantly went all red and pouty.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there!" he exclaims, moving closer and consoling her. “Okay let me guess. Darla.”

“Not even close,” she huffs. “It’s _him_.”

“Chase!?” he blurts out. “The fuck’s he doing at a male strip joint? Wait- is he gay? I mean, because if he was, that would make so much sen-”

"No, he's not gay- at least I don't think he is. But he's one of the new dancers apparently."

"New dancer? As in like...Magic Mike dancer?"

"Yes! Can't you believe that asshole!? It just makes me wanna... **GRRRRR!** " She growls in frustration, biting her pillow.

"No way," he shakes his head in disbelief. He believed it, yet it was hard to picture. "Are you sure that was him?"

“Don’t believe me? I can show you the footage,” she grabs her pink iPhone and unlocks it, flipping through the camera roll until she comes across it. “Look.”

He sits there and watches the whole thing. There was no freaking way. He seriously began to doubt it up until he took off that mask. That hair… that smile… those eyes… that body… it was definitely him. No doubt about it.

“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself, eyes widening as if he found the Holy Grail. A smile crept up on his face. Oh he had the wickedest of wicked ideas. He was gonna milk the hell out of this.

Snatching the phone from her hand, he turns away from her to send it to himself.

"Samuel! What the hell are you doing!? SAMUEL!?" she tries, in vain, to grab it back from him. Samuel craftily blocks her with his body as he finishes sending the video. Just to fuck with her, he deletes it out her phone before handing it back.

“Samuel!” She frantically flips through her camera roll. “Where’s the video? What did you just do!?”

"What? I did you a favor! No need to keep replaying it and making yourself miserable," he cooly responds right before being punched in the gut, hard. Damn thing knocked the wind right out of him.

“ **GET OUT OF MY ROOM!** ” she explodes, nearly deafening her older brother.

“Alright, I’m going,” he chokes, holding his stomach as he staggered out. She wasted no time slamming the door behind him.

Well shit, he probably just made her day worse than better. Eh, she’ll get over it.

He went back into his room and shut the door behind him. He grabs his phone and bounces on the bed jovially as he pulls up the message with the video that he sent to himself. He plays it over and over grinning like an idiot as he thinks about all the trouble Chase can get into if this was ever to get out. His reputation would be crushed! He wouldn't be able to stay in this school since they have a zero-tolerance policy, which means he could get kicked off the team. What elite private school would want a stripper to tarnish their image? DEFINITELY not this one.

This… this was the key to finally getting rid of him for good.

“Thank you sis,” he murmurs to himself before clicking off the phone and going to sleep.

****  
  


`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**CHASE**

It was Monday afternoon when Chase went to his locker to put back the books he needed for the day. He unlocks it, pushing the textbooks back into his neatly organized locker.

There was a science fair coming up that was due in January for his Chemistry final that was very important to him. Due to peer mediation, though, he had to partner up with Samuel. Although they didn’t get along, Samuel was compliant for once and agreed to have a meetup after school by the courtyards to discuss possible ideas for them to collaborate on. 

He made his way out the back doors into the Greek-esque courtyard and headed all the way to the back by the gates. Samuel was slowly coming into sight, sitting by a table surrounded by the overgrown greenery of the school’s garden. One could tell this particular section hadn’t been tended to for weeks. 

The closer he came to him, the more suspicious he got. Why would he want him to come with him so far from everyone? One could argue that Samuel simply didn’t want to be seen with him, but it was such an inconvenience. Couldn’t they just discuss this in the library?

He made it to the gates and took his seat across from him. Tension hung heavy in the air now that they were alone together. No one was around to hear what they discussed, neither was anyone around to break up a fight if one was to break out.

“Hey.”

“Hey Samuel,” he responds with uncertainty. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck and arms stood erect, anticipating funny behavior.

“Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he begins. “ _Physically_ that is,” he adds with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” Chase narrows his eyes in suspicion. What was he planning?

"Well we have a science project to work on, right?"

“Yeah?”

"Have any ideas?"

"Not really, I thought we were going to brainstorm and come up with one together,” he asserts, annoyed.

"Why don't we do a science project on women? Let's compare the amount of dopamine released when they're doing yoga versus when they see a high school dancer at a strip club?" He slowly pulls out his phone and plays a video.

His heart dropped.

Oh no...

This can't be happening.

His eyes widened as he struggled to breathe. He could feel the warm tears forming up, struggling to wipe them away. 

“ _H-How_ _?_ ” he chokes, unable to say more.

"Let's just say, I have connections," he smirks again before rising out of his seat and coming behind the other, putting an arm around his neck. He leans in, his fingers grasping his chin and forcing Chase to face him so he can see his face in full. 

“Samuel… please. You can’t do this,” he whimpers. His lower lip trembles as he struggles to hold in the sudden burst of tears. God, he felt so vulnerable and pathetic.

"Oh don't worry, Chase. I won't tell anyone your secret. In fact, we're gonna be best buds, _right_ _?_ "

He nods slowly in agreement. He didn’t want to do this. He just wanted to disappear forever…

"Good! Now can you do us a solid and work on the project? I have other things to do today."

He nods again, earning a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Glad you understand,” he stands up and stretches, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “See you at practice, Chase,” he walks off towards the building, leaving Chase alone by the gates.


	7. The Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase and Samuel collaborates together... or tries to.

"So Chase! How's that science project going?" Samuel inquires with a “friendly” pat on the back. 

Chase was slumped over his desk, tired. Two days had gone by since the whole blackmail incident and he was already getting on his nerves. They, well Samuel, agreed to exchange numbers so he can keep an eye on the other’s whereabouts. What or why he would need to know what he’s doing was beyond him.

"Fine. Would be nice if I can get a little help," he grumbles, shuffling through the papers. They had an introduction paper due today and he stayed up all last night doing it. Right now, they had a free period to converse and compare notes before Chemistry which was next period.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! No can do," he pats Chase on that head. "I have to keep my energy up for the game this Saturday!"

"Everything's not all about you, y'know. I need my rest, too," he mumbles under his breath. He was beyond exhausted.

"You can always just sit out this one and let me take over-"

"That's not an option, Samuel. I'm the quarterback. I need to be there."

“Yeah okay,” he scoffs before leaning in and whispering dangerously: "You won't be anymore if your little secret gets out. So take my advice and sit out. Just because you're the star player, it doesn't mean shit."

"What would Mr. Barr think? Are you willing to jeopardize the entire team over this?" Chase could feel his voice rising from frustration, but had to keep it under control. It must've worked because he instantly averted his gaze. He appeared to be deep in thought. He cocks his head to the side before speaking again.

“Samuel?”

"Fine. I'll let it slide. Only because I hate losing. Give me the prompt sheet," he holds his hand out for the other to give it to him. 

Upon Chase giving it to him, he snatches it away and makes some marks. Turning to pull out his own notebook from his bag, he turns to a page and jots some stuff down.

“Here,” he gives it back. “The ones marked with ‘S’ you don’t do.”

Chase stares at him in disbelief before a small smile creeps in his face from his rare bout of kindness. He wasn’t expecting this at all.

“Ah, thank you-”

"Shut up and go get me one of those Cokes from the vending machine," he cuts him off, pulling out his wallet from his pocket and handing him a dollar bill.

Chase’s smile disappeared faster than it came as he snatched the bill from his hand and turned to leave.

The hallway he walked was cool and spacious as well as empty. The flooring was dark blue with scattered white tiles. Further down was the school’s insignia: the eagle with the school name “West Shores Academy for Boys” (WSA). There were matching blue lockers on either side of the walls, though further down there were display cases of artwork and trophies. The WSA American Football Team was on its way up to the championships after decades of losses thanks to Coach Barr’s and Chase’s team plays. He had a natural affinity for coming up with strategies and teamwork which made him respected as a team captain. 

Just a team captain, though.

He finally makes it to the drink machine and slips in the dollar. He pushes the button for the    
Coke, but gets a “Sold Out” message on the little screen. He gets the dollar back and shrugs. Guess Samuel’s gonna be out of a Coke. He deserved it, really, for being an ass. 

He heads back to the classroom and quietly enters, heading towards Samuel.

“Samuel.”

The blonde turns his head, scowling when he sees the other empty-handed.

"Where the hell is my drink?"

"There’s no more Coke," he responds, giving him back his money.

"The fuck you mean ‘there’s no more Coke!?"

"Mr. Champion! Quiet down!" the teacher scolds, earning a dirty look from the blonde.

"No more Coke? As in, your drink is sold out?" Chase bites back, sarcastically.

"Then why didn't you just high-tail your ass to the corner store?"

"Samuel I'm not walking down that steep-ass hill to the corner store.”

"Do you want everyone to know your secret?"

"No," he sighs.

"Then I would suggest you walk down that 'steep-ass' hill to the corner store first thing after we're dismissed."

Nostrils flared at Samuel’s obnoxious and domineering behavior. Oh he HATED him and how much power he leveraged over him. This was a nightmare that he couldn’t wait to end.

\---------------------------------------------------------

He left as soon after the bell rang, making his way out the door and down the hill. Peer mediation starts in about 15 minutes so that should be enough time to get it. 

A stressed exhale escapes his lips. He’s practically Samuel’s bitch now. He cringed at the thought of it. His final year would be far better if he didn’t have so much power over him. At least he had a break and more time to himself for now.

Upon reaching the dilapidated convenience store, he spots a familiar face surrounded in a small group, one of them he recognizes as Chief. He squints his eyes.

“Rodeo?”

The brunette turns towards him and smiles, meeting him halfway and putting an arm around him.

"What's up? Oh, and by the way-" He leaned in, "It's Zayn outside the club."

“Ah, I see,” he nods understandably. 

Zayn grabs his hand and leads him to the group he was hanging around to introduce him.

"Hey guys! This is my friend, uh, what is it again?"

“...Chase.”

“Right. Chase, this is Lionel, Gino, Benny, Shinoh, and Kal,” he introduces with a sense of familiarity. 

“Ah Chase, nice to see you again. Y’know, outside the club,” Lionel muses, holding out a hand. 

It was the first time he saw Rodeo and Chief outside of Damon’s Paradise and well… he was dressed exactly how he thought they would dress. Lionel had a very modern dress-style while adding his own Native-American flair; a white low cut V-neck underneath a beige cardigan with ashen blue ripped jeans. He wore his medium-length hair in a side braid, adorned with beads and hair rings. Zayn on the other hand was dressed in all black: black leather jacket atop of a grey shirt, charcoal-colored pants, and leather boots. They looked like a rag tag sort of group- they all appeared to be a part of completely different social circles, yet they were hanging together.

He was so busy observing everyone that he hadn’t noticed Zayn slowly scanning his uniform.

“You go to that little prep school up there?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh?” he takes a look down at his uniform. “Oh yeah, been going there since sixth grade.”

It hadn’t occurred to him that these men probably  _ don’t  _ know his true age.

“I’m a senior now, though,” he adds with quickness. It wasn’t a lie, but he didn’t want to raise any questions in that regard.

"Really now? You know Ken graduated from that school."

“Wow, I had no idea.”

"I heard it costs around a grand a semester."

“Yeah…”

"That's where most of that money's going to, isn't it?"

“Well… that and the rent,” he shuffles his feet, nervously. This was beginning to feel more like an interrogation than an actual conversation and he wanted so desperately for it to end.

“They treat you well up there?” he slowly paces around him. 

Chase’s face begins to grow hot from all the mixed emotions. Frustration, embarrassment, and nervousness all meshed into one as he felt a million butterflies in his stomach. He despised how much Zayn was prying, yet he couldn’t help… liking how much interest he took in him?

“Y-Yeah of course! There’s just this-” Chase catches himself before he says too much. “N-Nevermind.”

"They don't let you wear your hair out?" he raises an eyebrow, messing around with Chase’s slicked back, low bushy ponytail.

“No. They say it’s a distraction.”

“A distraction?” he pulls away with a perplexed look. “How the hell is it a distraction? Just because your hair’s huge, curly, and gorgeous?”

“Eh…” he looks away with a very visible blush. He just called his hair gorgeous! It wasn’t everyday that Chase got a compliment like that. 

"Here, let me help you," he reaches back and unravels the other’s hair tie to unleash his curly locks. He ruffles them up and styles it much how Chase had it at the club. 

“Much better,” he smiles. “Don’t you think so?” he turns to his friends, them murmuring in confirmation.

“Thanks,” his honey eyes were glued to his feet now. Zayn may be intense at times, but he certainly had the gift to charm the pants off of someone. 

"So, what brings you down here?"

"Well I-"

Just then, his phone begins to ring. It was Samuel; Chase could feel it and the caller ID confirmed it.

Shit.

"Uh, let me take this call really quick," Chase rushes off around the corner. “Hello?” he answers with a whisper.

"Where the hell are you?" the blonde’s booming voice screeches through the receiver, nearly deafening him.

"I'm at the store-"

"Peer meditation begins in two minutes and I still haven't gotten my damn Coke. It doesn't take you THAT long to go and come back. What's the hold up?"

"Look I was just hanging with some friends, okay?" Chase looks up and accidentally locks eyes with Zayn, who in turn raises an eyebrow. “I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

"Who the hell-?!"

"I gotta go, bye!" he quickly hangs up, taking a deep breath. God, he was so demanding.

Chase comes back from around the corner and flashes the group a smile, hoping to mitigate their concerns.

“Hey, I gotta jet okay? I’ll see you later,” he smiles again before heading inside the store. Chase could’ve sworn he saw Zayn tilt his head in curiosity from the corner of his eye.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Chase jogs in the classroom, out of breath with his drink in hand. His hair was now a wild, curly mess which was not often seen inside the school unless it was football practice. Even then, it was impractical to have it out since it often got in the way and made putting on the helmet more difficult. 

Samuel eyes him as he comes around to his table and hands him the drink. His blue eyes silently look him up and down before shifting over to a puzzled Mr. Barr. 

"Well then. I see you two have been, uh, communicating?" He speaks, his voice laced in confusion.

"Yes sir. We're working on a science project together," Samuel loudly boasts.

The curly-haired boy takes his usual seat across from him. He wanted so badly to groan. Samuel was a terrible liar.

"And that involves him... getting you a Coke?"

"It was a favor. And Chase was nice enough to do it, isn't that right Chase?" he lightly kicks him under the table.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” he responds, nonchalant. 

"Uh huh," Mr. Barr frowns before shrugging. "If you say so. Now, let's get started! Today I'm assigning you a project of your own."

"Another one?"

"Mmhmm. And it requires BOTH of you to study each other," he emphasizes. "I want you guys to piece together a storybook of your lives- except not of your own."

They both groan. That’s nice. It was really nice.

"Do you really think we're interested in learning about each other's lives?" Samuel scoffs.

"Nope! But you guys will start today. This will be your ongoing project until the very last day when it's due. If you don't complete it, you will have extra days added into your peer mediation. Now, I'm gonna leave the room so you guys can talk," he rises out of his seat to leave, leaving the two jocks alone with each other.

An awkward silence hung heavily in the room. It was obvious none of them knew what to say or what to do. One thing was for certain though, the dynamics were completely changed compared to last time so the likelihood of another fight breaking out was slim. 

"So, what  _ really _ took you so long to get back?" Samuel interrogates, breaking the silence.

He groans and rolls his eyes. "I was talking to my friends, Samuel."

"Pffft! Friends? What friends? You don't have any friends-"

"Aren't we supposed to be getting to know each other?"

"You really think I want to get to know you?"

"Look, I don't want to do this either, but unless you want to spend more time in this classroom, we should at least work together.”

Another silence. Samuel was wearing that same pensive look on his face, much like before. If only Chase could pick his brain to see what was  _ really  _ up.

“Alright,” he says finally. He turns to him and puts his feet up on the desk, reaching down in his backpack to pull out a notebook and a pencil. "What do you wanna know about me?"

"Anything really. Let's just start with the basics. Where and when were you born?" 

"Hmm...I was actually born in Brooklyn, New York. September 21st. My mother actually took a trip out to New York City for her business when she was pregnant with me. She's like this big-time prosecutor, so literally right after I popped out, she went back to work.”

"Sounds to me like she's a busy woman. Was she always that busy?” Chase asks, looking at Samuel intently. 

The blonde catches his gaze and then quickly averts his gaze.

“Well… sorta. I mean, she was there for the important things like my middle school graduation and stuff."

“I see,” he nods, deciding not to pry further.

Samuel’s mother from what he remembered came and went. He remembered her being a rather chipper woman who tried to be involved in her kids life. Guess it’s not always possible when you’re an important figure. 

He jots this down.

"Well what about you? Tell me about yourself,” he presses, quickly changing the subject.

"Me? Oh, well... as you know, I wasn't born here. I'm from Trinidad," Chase answers. “I was born on January 8th in my mother’s house,” he twiddles his fingers, looking down at the floor as he spoke. "I migrated here when I was four. It was pretty scary though, because I had to take a boat with some people I didn't even know."

"Trinidad, huh? Is that where they eat bugs and shit?" he snickers. Chase wanted to hit him.

“We’re not some poor country, Samuel. We have cities. But I was in the poor part of South Belmont.”

“Mm,’ he writes this down.

This was surprisingly not as bad as he initially thought. Eh, it was all just pretend.

"What do you guys usually eat?"

"Well, they have a bunch of good food like roti and curry-"

" _ What and what? _ " he interjects.

"Oh, roti is like flat bread but better. It's the stuff I sometimes bring to school for lunch."

"Mm."

"There's also my personal favorite food, which is currants roll. It's a pastry with currants, which are kinda like raisins. They're really good.”

"Currants roll, huh?" Samuel murmurs. "Bring that tomorrow. I wanna try some."

“Wait, really?” Chase furrows his brows. There was no way he could be serious.

"Yeah, bring them."

“Uh… okay. But don’t have me bring them just to have it turn out you weren’t serious. My uncle

and I make them homemade and I don’t need some asshole wasting our time-”

**“BRING THE SHIT.”**

He said this with such earnest that Chase couldn’t help but be taken aback by it all. He found him very pleased with how smoothly this was going. They were communicating for once and Samuel seemed interested in eating his culture’s food. 

“Okay then,” he flashes a genuine, bright smile. 

The other’s bright, cerulean eyes grew wide as he seemingly froze in his seat. Was he blushing? 

"Uh...Samuel? You good?"

"Fuck you," he sneers, hastily shoving his school supplies in his bag and zipping them up.

“You realize peer mediation isn’t done yet, right?”

"I don't give a shit. I've been here long enough," he rises out of his seat. 

Why was he-?

"What? Samuel where is all of this hostility coming from?" he rises out of his seat as well, confused. This was all so sudden… just what was going on with him?

"Shut up. I'm leaving," he storms towards the door.

"Samuel, stop," Mr. Barr says after opening the door and blocking Samuel’s path.

Was he listening to everything the whole time?

“What for!?” 

"Just relax. You guys were doing so well! I almost wept real Jesus tears because you two were getting along so good!" Mr. Barr grins. 

"Well I don't care. I'm ready to go."

“You’re dismissed for the day,” he sighs.

Samuel wastes no time leaving, shoving past the short, middle-aged man. 

Mr. Barr and Chase exchange glances upon Samuel's sudden departure. That was weird. Really weird.

He was so confused, he could’ve sworn that they were actually starting to get along? How stupid was he for thinking that they would actually touch bases for once. Did he say something wrong? Did he somehow offend him? He sighs. How could ever level with someone who was  _ this _ committed to misunderstanding him.

"You alright, Chase?" the man’s gruff voice snags him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good,” he lies, watching him come around to take a seat near him.

"How are things going with you and Samuel?"

"It's fine. A little rocky, but fine."

"Is he giving you any trouble?" He asks with utmost concern.

“No,” he lies again. There was no way he could tell him what’s going on. His life would come crumbling down if he knew his… extracurricular activity. “I mean, nothing that I can’t handle on my own,” he gives a weak smile. 

“I see. Well if you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he nods before getting his stuff together. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Barr.

\---------------------------------------------------------

He went into the Dancer’s Room to get changed. Today’s theme was ‘Sexy Doctors’, so there were plenty of hospital-themes outfits to choose from. As he was swiping through the clothes on the rack, he felt a pair of arms wrap his waist.

“Hey Mamba,” Rodeo ruggedly whispers, his chin burrowing comfortably in the crook of his neck.

“Hey you,” he looks back with a smile. “What’s up?”

"Can I steal you for a minute?"

“Uh, s-sure!” he stutters, feeling those familiar butterflies in his stomach.

He brings him to the far back of the Dancer’s Room to a lounge area and sits on the velvet black loveseat. He pats the seat next to him, motioning him to sit down.

“So, what’s up?” he asks, weakly.

“Is everything okay with you?”

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well I overheard your conversation and it sounds like you have a bit of a problem."

"Oh no, no. The person on the other line was a friend. He's usually very loud," he excuses. Didn’t look like Zayn was buying it, though.

"Mm. I spoke to Ken about the school. He told me about the zero-tolerance policy. You know how much trouble you'll get into if someone was to find out about where you work, right?"

"...Yeah. But it's the only way I can support me and my uncle," he laments. 

"He doesn't work?"

"He lost his job recently. He's just been so unmotivated to do anything," Chase sighs. 

"I see,” he takes Chase’s hands in his. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

Zayn was concerned for him? He was putting so of his energy into him; it was so hard to fathom why he even cared so much? It wasn’t like he was here for long. He half wanted to tell him to mind his business. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. Why…? His hands felt so comfortable in Zayn’s slender, rougher ones. There was a softness in those dark eyes of his.

“I will,” he reassures.

“Good,” he plants fluttering kisses on both hands before standing up to stretch.

“See you on stage,” he winks before heading back to the changing area. Chase smiles to himself despite Ken Doll’s scowl in the distance.


	8. Is This For Real?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel's sentiments towards Chase takes a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter this time, but I hope you enjoy it anyways

**SAMUEL**

Samuel lays down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. So many thoughts were racing through his head- most which he didn’t want to think about. He had to sort out his feelings. It was this tangled, crumpled mess and he just didn’t know how to handle it. How the fuck did he allow himself to get visibly embarrassed and flustered in front of him like this? He wasn’t gay. He was never was gay. 

He walks out of his room in search of his sister. Yeah, yeah; asking a 16-year old for advice might be a little stupid he had to admit, but it’s usually women that understands emotions the best? 

Wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to about this anyways. Anyone else would probably would call him a faggot or some shit.

He went down the stairs and spotted her in the dining room eating and doing her homework. He takes the spot next to her, earning a side-eye.

“Can I help you?”

“I need help.”

“Yeah, you do,” she snorts.

“I meant advice. Is everything a damn joke to you nowadays?” Samuel sneers in return.

Domi laughs this off. “Alright, alright. What do you need advice for?”

“I uh…,” he looks away. How exactly was he gonna word this? Especially considering that it’s her ex. It was nasty.

“Let’s just say there’s this person who’s held my interest-”

“ _ Chase?  _ Jesus, already bro?” 

Samuel’s eyes widened.

“I never even said-”

"Samuel. You've been obsessed with this guy for the longest. You're just using our relationship as an excuse. Besides, mom and I knew you were going to like him eventually,” she responds, nonchalant.

“That’s not the  _ only  _ reason-”

“Oh I forgot about that Rossi kid too. That whole outing schtick,” she dramatically sighs, dropping her pencil and turning to face him. “Look Sam, you obviously had some kind of thing for Chase even back then. Or y’know, boys in general.”

His jaw dropped. He was surprised, but it quickly turned to anger. 

“Don’t take it personal,” she turns back around, waving him off. “It’s obvious you only bully him to cover up how hurt you are. Jesus Samuel, have you ever thought of having a conversation with the boy?” 

“Do you and mom sit around and have fucking conferences about me or something?” 

“Aha, sometimes. Look, mom worries about you and I gotta keep her up to speed,” she shrugs. “Now tell me the deetz.”

_ “I don’t even know who you are anymore…” _ Samuel whines lowly to himself. Wasn’t she the least bit upset? At all?

“Sam?”

“I don’t know, I just… I feel weird around him,” he stammers.

“You’re speaking as if you haven’t felt these feelings before. What are you, some child?” Domi rolls her eyes.

“Domi you don’t understand. This isn’t like Rossi. Not in the slightest.”

_ “Oh?”  _ she swivels around with a cheeky little smile. "Let me guess, you get a floating feeling in your chest? Stomach gets butterflies? Your face gets all hot kinda like now?" she points out.

The blonde’s fair skin flushes a crimson. He truly wished his blushing wasn’t so visible to other people.

“Stop that!”

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything! It's all you, bro. It’s cute that you like him though. You’d make a cute couple.”

“No I don’t,” Samuel protests with a growl. “I don’t like him, Domi. It’s because of that stupid, fucking video.”

"The video!?" She laughs, incredulously. "Okay, stop. If you  _ really _ want to find out how you feel, then kiss him."

"What!? Domi, I'm not gonna kiss a guy!"

“You kissed Rossi.”

“And look what happened. If you think for one minute that I’m gonna risk my fucking rep in that school again, you have another thing coming,” he swears. 

Domi sighs.

“I mean, it’s the quickest way to figure out if you like him. Works for me.”

It was a bit silly but she had a point. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the means to corner him into doing it but the very thought was embarrassing. Why now? He wasn’t thinking about Chase in that way did he? He had to take extra precautions to make sure this NEVER gets out. 

He dryly thanks her before rising out of his seat and trudging back upstairs and into his room. That conversation did nothing to quiet his thoughts. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

**CHASE**

End of fifth period.

Chase was heading to his locker to put his things away before receiving a text from Samuel.

**[Samuel: Meet me in the boy’s locker room. Gym A.]**

**[Samuel: Now.]**

**[Chase: uh okay???]**

  
  


He opened his locker and put his things away before pocketing his phone. The fuck? Nobody was supposed to be in the locker rooms in between periods. But that one tended to be empty, but also guarded so nobody could sneak in and cut. 

It’s whatever though. If he got in trouble, he was 100% throwing Samuel under the bus.

Chase makes his way down the stairs, stealthily sneaking past the security guards as he did so. How they allowed a six-foot tall black football player sneak by them so easily was beyond him. It was almost like they didn’t really care for their jobs.

He managed to slip past the doors and into the locker room. He proceeded to look for him until he found him in the far back, sitting on one of the benches.

“Hey?” Chase stands over him, prompting him to get up. 

Samuel wasn’t short, but the fact that he was below eye-level to Chase was adorable. 

“Hey,” he responds, fidgeting. He definitely was nervous about something, the way he kept looking around.

“You good?” Chase furrowed his brows. This boy was moving like a fucking crackhead.

“I’m fine,” he mutters before looking at him.

He flashes Chase a very serious look before slamming him against the locker, trapping him between his arms.

_ “Wha de-!?” _

“Shh!” he presses a finger to his lips to silence him.

His heart was racing now; they were so close. He could smell a slightly oceanic musk from him. It smelled… surprisingly nice? The curly-haired male had to avert his gaze to mitigate some of the tension. However, he grabbed his chin and tilted his head to face him.

"Do not tell anyone about what I'm about to do to you. Okay?"

Chase gulps, responding with a single nod. Wait, was he about to get assaulted?

Oh no…

Please no.

Samuel holds his head in place as he leans in, planting a chaste kiss. He pulls away as if to read his reaction. Chase blinks, puzzled. The island native had no idea how to respond.

Should he deck him? Push him away? Cuss him out? Leave? Should he-

The blonde presses his lips against his again, this time much harder and pulls away. His lips were rosy. Not the softest, but the most kissable and boy has he kissed dozens of other girls. Never a guy’s though, this was a first for him. 

Samuel’s hand moved from his chin to the back of his head, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Chase instinctively parts his lips when he feels his tongue line his lower lip and allows the other’s tongue to slip into his mouth. His honey eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the other’s hands slide down his sides and rest on his waist, his body pressing him further against the locker.

What was going on with him? Why did this feel so natural? He was supposed to hate him. He was mean, violent, childish and yet here he was making out with him in some abandoned locker room. Was he gay? 

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of this.

He moans softly into his mouth, feeling something hard pressing against his crotch.

“Ah, Samuel?” he whispers, his eyes flickering to his bulge. He wasn’t planning on doing anything else, was he?

He pulls away abruptly, gasping at his nether regions.

_ “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck _ ,” he repeated over and over again, pacing back and forth nervously. 

“Ayo Sam? You good-?”

“Shush,” he shakes his head, waving him off. "Go to class. Or- do something. Just get the hell out. Don't say shit about what happened here, okay?"

“Sure, I guess,” he walks off, slowly. He sneaks past the security guard once more and makes his way to the courtyard to hide until the next period. He presses his fingers to his lips and softly smiles to himself.

He didn’t know whatever the fuck that was but damn. Chase really had the juice.


End file.
